


typical love story

by selectiveyellow



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, blonde lexie is my favorite lexie, eventually cares too much izzie is my favorite izzie, grey's anatomy standard drunk sex, two ladies have love issues and try to work it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selectiveyellow/pseuds/selectiveyellow
Summary: She leans forward on her arms, moving her empty bottle out of her way, considering Izzie for a moment, and Izzie thinks she’ll agree with whatever Lexie’s going to say. “So – I’m here. Make it up to me.”





	typical love story

Emerald City bar is predictably full, as full as Izzie remembers, but the people she remembers the most aren’t in it tonight. Izzie takes a wild guess and assumes they’re either working harder lately or have just grown into drinking at home, growing up a little.

Their missing presence is why Izzie stayed, hoping for one last visit before she left and didn’t look back.

Joe, thankfully, doesn’t remark on her long absence and abrupt return. He was always pretty good at picking up on when to chat and when to serve, or maybe he just knows the story enough to not bother speaking to her.

She’s two beers in, considering a third before leaving, when Izzie realizes one of the people she’d been avoiding is actually here.

Izzie sees her sitting at a booth on her own, a beer held limply in her hand, in a more secluded part of the bar. Izzie’s not sure it’s actually Lexie at first; she’s blonde, for one, a lighter shade than her own (that in other situations Izzie would have thought actually looked pretty great on her) and for another her back is mostly to Izzie. She’s hunched over in a way that makes Izzie think she’s been like that all night, so it’s no surprise she hasn’t notice Izzie yet either.

Izzie wonders why she’s alone and not home with Meredith, or here with – well, Izzie only wonders for a moment before making the decision to sit with Lexie. There’s a small part of Izzie that wants to know what she has to look so sad about.

Izzie takes only a little bit of joy in knowing she’s snuck up on her, but Izzie trails her fingers along the back of her booth, slipping into the seat opposite her without an invitation and a quickly muttered, “Hey.”

Lexie startles at the intrusion. “Izzie!” she says when she realizes who’s joined her, and for a moment she’s smiling like she’s genuinely happy to see her, before the reality of the situation catches up and her eyes shadow. She looks down and speaks to the table instead. “Hi.”

Even as Izzie frowns at her, she’s surprised at how badly she wants to see that smile on her face again, to see some form of relief that she’s back and someone was glad to see her. Suddenly Izzie finds she has no idea what to say. Lucky for her, Lexie’s always been a nervous talker and the tipsy ex-wife look Izzie must have right now _has_ to be making her anxious. Izzie rests her chin in her hand like she expects her to go first, just for that extra bit of push.

“Wha-what are you doing here? It’s been...uh, you left so fast. We were sure you’d be miles from here by now.”

Izzie swirls the liquid in her glass. “Had some last-minute work stuff to take care of. Figured I’d do it in person, make sure I have no unfinished business.”

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No. Well, just HR.”

Lexie nods and starts picking at the label of her beer with her fingernail. “They miss you, you know.”

A stab of guilt cuts into Izzie when she remembers Meredith asking Izzie _please stay_ , but it’s replaced with anger when she remembers Alex practically showed her the door. Not that she didn’t deserve it. “I doubt he misses me that much.”

“I didn’t just mean Al– “

Izzie’s eyes slash through her and Lexie’s mouth snaps shut with a clack when she realizes Alex is the last person she should be discussing with Izzie, but then her brow crinkles and she meets Izzie glare for glare. “Are you here to talk about Alex? Is this supposed to be a fight or something?”

Her new bravado impresses Izzie and maybe it’s just the two beers she already polished off, or the dim neon glow of the bar, but seeing it mixed with her new hair makes Lexie look kind of hot.

Izzie covers up that thought with a shrug and admits, “I don’t think I have a right to talk about Alex.”

“Oh.” That clearly surprises her; she doesn’t look away, but she deflates and her gaze softens just a touch. “But I – you, and he and I…?”

“Yeah, you slept with my husband - and I’m pretty pissed about that.” Her nerves come back and she looks away again. Izzie starts tapping her fingers along her glass. “But he left me in the end anyway.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Izzie blinks because she was starting the set up to take all the blame herself. She almost backs down hearing her apologize to the table, but Izzie still feels that leftover anger. “You should know better than to sleep with someone who’s _married_.”

She knows Lexie wouldn’t remember this at all, but Izzie suddenly realizes she _really_ is not one to talk about sleeping with married men. She feels justified in her hypocrisy, because she’s hurt and drunk and lonely.

Lexie’s head shoots up and she’s giving Izzie that angry look again. “I said I was sorry, okay? I’m not in love with him if that’s what you’re thinking. I wasn’t – didn’t wait until you were _gone_ and made my move or anything like that. I was sad and lonely if you care so damn much to know and he half came on to me anyway; so yes I’m _sorry_ , but where the _hell_ were you?”

Izzie’s not nearly as pissed off being spoken to that way as she would have thought (for the second time Izzie finds herself thinking it’s a _damn_ good look on Lexie) but her response is cut short by the door opening and Mark entering the room. Lexie swivels her head to see who it is once she sees Izzie’s eye linger away from her; Izzie watches curiously as he survey's the room and meets Lexie’s gaze. Izzie half expects he’ll come over, surely wondering why Izzie’s here, but instead he glares at _Lexie_ , turns on his heel and leaves. Izzie doesn’t think he even saw her.

She could have sworn they were an item the last time she saw them together and her eyebrows raise when the significance practically smacks her in the face.

Lexie’s entire body language changes from anger to shock to dejection so fast and fully - shoulders sagging, head tilted, white knuckled grip around the glass - Izzie almost gets whiplash from watching her. Lexie takes a swig from her beer before turning back around and Izzie sees tears forming as her free hand makes another fist on the table. Izzie waits much more patiently than the ex-wife who came over to confront the mistress logically should, until she collects herself and looks at Izzie again. Izzie’s pretty sure what she just saw was the answer she was waiting for.

Lexie now looks exactly like she did before Izzie sat down. “I told him about Alex,” she says. “He won’t even look at me anymore.”

“What happened?” Izzie can’t help asking, because she didn’t think Lexie was the type to cheat, but maybe Izzie doesn’t really know what type she is at all.

Lexie shakes her head pathetically. “You don’t want to know that.”

Izzie doesn’t know if it’s just masochism to know why someone who was sort of her friend would sleep with her husband, or just left-over affection for this sort of friend who’s clearly hurting, but she finds she wants to let Lexie talk about Mark. Looking at her now, Izzie just sees Lexie. Someone she left behind, months before she actually walked out the door, just like she left everyone else.

Alex isn’t her husband anymore, hadn’t been for a while; legally yes, when he slept with Lexie, but not in any other way that mattered, and he took most of the blame for cheating. And, well, of ‘everyone else’ that Izzie wishes she could make it up to, Lexie’s the only one here _now_ and the only one she’ll see tonight.

Izzie remembers she kinds of owes her anyway.

Tapping her hand on the table twice in a ‘wait here’ motion, Izzie gets up, intending to bring more beers. She’s a little surprised Lexie’s still sitting when she returns, but Izzie guesses she wants to talk to someone too.

Izzie isn’t sure if it’s the gesture of company that Lexie probably feels she doesn’t deserve or the stare down with Mark finally getting to her, but Lexie sobs out a laugh and wipes at her eyes before taking the offered beer.

“Okay.”

//

Hearing about Sloan Riley makes Izzie think of her own teen out there in the world that she’ll probably never see again, so she supposes in a way she can relate to Mark. She probably would have even taken his side if he had gotten to her first.

But as it is, she’s three beers in and staring at this woman who a few hours ago Izzie would have probably been content to assume she hated as Lexie wrings a napkin in her hands and rubs her fingers under her eyes, being more honest and open with Izzie than Izzie has ever been with her, word falling easily through the alcohol on her lips. She tells Izzie about things that have everything, anything and nothing to do with her – Mark and Sloan and Addison, Callie and Robbins, Cristina and Altman and Hunt, Meredith, Webber, Derek, Bailey – and Izzie thinks how arrogantly she had assumed she could just walk back into their lives and pick up where she left off just because she was sorry.

And it’s probably only the alcohol talking, but Izzie realizes she still likes Lexie as much as she used to, in spite of everything that happened, despite believing at the start of the night that she had every reason to leave her here with only spiteful words ringing in her ears, Izzie finds that’s really the last thing she wants to do.

She came over here wondering why Alex slept with Lexie, and as Lexie talks and just _looks_ at her, Izzie now wonders why Alex didn’t leave her sooner. Izzie feels the anger and resentment melt from her body as she thinks of the Christmas she missed, her once home as full of people and food as she had always hoped it could be.

Izzie knows it’s of no concern to her, but she tells Lexie where she went after she was fired. About the town she grew up in, about her mom and her weird phone calls that she still indulges in after all these years, about the hospital Izzie had to drive an hour to get to for her treatment and how she would kill time just roaming the halls there and listening to the doctors and nurses gossip in the cafeteria, or even sneaking into galleries if she could manage it. Lexie smiles at hearing it, and Izzie is grateful for some reason.

Izzie watches Lexie run her hands through her hair as she finishes off both stories by smartly avoiding any details of her and Alex and instead choosing to end at the day Izzie left and how she wishes she had stayed, how she wishes everyone had just stayed together, and Izzie thinks of Meredith.

“Maybe everything could have turned out differently,” Lexie says, trailing off, and Izzie’s eyes track the way the blonde strands move through the space between her fingers.

Maybe Izzie and Meredith could have gotten even closer, filled that hole in both their lives left behind by George. Maybe she could have learned from Cristina instead of trying to take from each other. Maybe she and Alex could have saved their marriage, or at least their friendship. Maybe she would have watched Mark and Lexie get married. Maybe she would have stayed to see what kind of doctor Lexie would be.

What kind of doctor _she_ would be.

“Maybe I would have realized other people were hurting just as much as I was,” Izzie says. She waits until Lexie catches her eye. “Maybe I would have realized just how much I was giving up.”

Lexie blinks slowly at Izzie, like she’s letting her words really settle around her, eyes lingering on Izzie’s face. “There’s still time,” she finally says, with that same slow linger. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow, ‘bout noon.”

“So go see them. Make it up to them.”

Izzie looks away, out at the rest of the bar, much less crowded now even though it’s not that late yet, and tries to see if she recognizes anyone. “I wasn’t planning on seeing them. I wasn’t planning on even seeing _you_.”

She leans forward on her arms, moving her empty bottle out of her way, considering Izzie for a moment, and Izzie thinks she’ll agree with whatever Lexie’s going to say. “So – I’m here. Make it up to me.”

Izzie’s jaw goes slack, completely taken by her forwardness – what Izzie assumes is forwardness, if she’s not misreading her lean, the tilt of her head, the lift to her lips – and again Izzie realizes these parts of Lexie that she never got the chance to see are very good looks on her. Izzie finds that she does in fact agree with her.

“Thought I already was,” Izzie offers, matching her lean, playfully dragging out whatever _this_ was about to become.

Lexie reaches over and takes Izzie’s not yet finished bottle, pressing the lip to her mouth. “If you say so,” she implies, smiling around the glass. Izzie watches her drink the rest of her beer, transfixed by their bold exchange, and the sudden realization that she knew _exactly_ why Alex slept with her shakes Izzie to her core, travels down her spine and into all of her limbs.

It’s a complete one-eighty from the mood Izzie was in when she arrived, from her feelings when she left. It would probably just be a mistake.

Well, Izzie thinks, looking at that grin on Lexie’s face as Izzie pulls out her wallet to pay both their tabs, what was one more mistake between the two of them?

//

The two stumble together as Izzie kicks her hotel door shut, and she kisses Lexie like she did as soon as the bar was behind them, like she did in the taxi ride here, like she did in the elevator. Lexie kisses like she _missed_ Izzie even though she had no reason to, and Izzie thinks she must have missed her too as her hands tangle in Lexie’s hair and their lips move together, soft and steady.

Izzie pulls away only long enough to get the door locked and for the both of them to kick off their shoes in a direction of no importance before coming together again. Lexie’s hands move to her jeans like she’s going to take them off but Izzie doesn’t give her a chance, fingers curling in the belt loops to pull her close and flush against her and Lexie walks Izzie back until they hit the door with a grunt.

Her hands immediately travel up, fingers moving through Izzie’s hair, twirling in her curls and leaving lingering tracks on her scalp in a way that’s slow and deliberate and Izzie shivers at the rush it sends because they both can’t forget when Izzie had no hair at all. Her heart trips over itself when Lexie gives a pleasant hum and smiles against her lips as she uses her grip to pull Izzie closer and _god_ , Izzie thinks she forgives Lexie just for that alone.

Izzie remembers she’s supposed to be making it up to _her_ , although currently she can’t remember what ‘it’ is, can’t remember anything really except the feel of Lexie in her arms and the location of her bed in the room they’ve barely even entered, has no idea what kind of insane transference their night at the bar has screwed their feelings up into but she’s surprisingly _into_ it and clearly Lexie is too.

Izzie takes control of making it up to her by flipping her around so her back is pressed against Izzie’s front. Izzie keeps a wrist trapped in her hold, their arms raised up against the door, as Izzie circles her other arm around her. Lexie makes another pleased sound, head titled back so her lips ghost along Izzie’s cheek and jaw as her hand teases along zipper teeth. Izzie’s pulls the zipper down, pops open the button, and Lexie gives a frustrated whine when she moves her hand up and away, only to swallow it back when she tucks her hand under Lexie’s shirt.

“Iz – “ she starts to say as Izzie trails her fingertips against her stomach, but she seems to think against it, dragging her hand through Izzie’s hair again and moving her head to kiss her fully instead. Really all that does is make Izzie more desperate to watch her come undone because of her, and she lazily palms a breast as if she has all the time in the world instead of one night.

Lexie sighs against her lips, fingers in Izzie’s hair gripping tighter, and Izzie keeps her pace because _this_ position seems completely fair to her. She pushes under a cup and slowly circles a hardening nipple with her fingertip, in absolutely no hurry. Lexie’s knees buckle and she bites at Izzie’s lip – on accident likely, as her tongue traces the spot almost immediately as if to soothe it – and in response Izzie cups her breast in her hand, kneading with a little more urgency, thumb flicking at the tip, and she lets out a groan from deep in her throat, arching into Izzie’s hand and pushing on her toes to kiss her harder.

The sound sends a jolt up Izzie’s spine, strikes her as particularly _dirty_ , a kind of dirty that even at this point with her hand up Lexie’s shirt she’s surprised to hear from her, until she remembers Lexie, squirming under her fingers and twisted awkwardly in her arms, once _broke Mark’s penis_ – a fact about her that Izzie had learned during a very drunk Girl’s Night at Meredith’s; Lexie didn’t remember sharing the next morning, but Izzie, Cristina and Meredith sure did – and she finds that she _really likes_ bringing out this side of Lexie and she feels drunk in a completely different way.

Izzie lets go of the wrist still held against the door and slips her hand into Lexie’s pants without much warning, fingers trailing low over her covered slit. She’s wet and gasps in relief at the sudden touch, hips bucking. Izzie grins and drags both of her hands away – Lexie lets out a string of _‘no, no, no’s_ full of unashamed frustration and whining – and grips Lexie by the hips to twist her around and back her towards the nearly forgotten bed.

They grope at each other on the way there, clothes twisted and pulled up and off, and by the time Lexie’s legs hit the bed her shirt and jeans are gone, Izzie’s pants are haphazardly thrown across the armchair in the room and her shirt is in Lexie’s grip. Izzie grabs her wrists and stills them because she’s gone long enough without touching her, shirt be damned, and Izzie guides her down to the bed, both arms held over Lexie’s head.

Izzie puts the brakes on more for her sake than Lexie’s, kissing her slow and lingering and taking her time, because she has to admit there’s a small part of her that relishes a little in the way she can make Lexie squirm – it’s the same feeling as when she helped herself to Lexie’s booth and caught her by surprise. Izzie thinks by the way she sighs into her mouth and doesn’t fight against Izzie’s grip at all that maybe Lexie likes it too, and that gets Izzie’s racing heart moving triple time.

Releasing hold on one of her wrists is inevitable however as Izzie trails her hand down Lexie’s body again. Her free hand cups Izzie’s cheek as soon as it’s let go, holding onto Izzie’s jaw as they kiss, tracing her tongue across Izzie’s lips in a way that makes Izzie shiver and dig her knees into the cheap bedspread to steady herself. Izzie unhurriedly tracks her nails over Lexie’s skin, between the valley of her breasts, her ribs, her stomach, until she reaches the edge of her underwear. Izzie feels Lexie’s hips shift under her fingers but she doesn’t bother dipping under, and instead stokes her over the fabric, deliberate and lazy.

Lexie’s breath quickens, her hand flexes and unflexes and Izzie can feel the tendons in her wrist stain against her fingers. She bucks into Izzie’s hand but the movements only make Izzie loom over her with a grin. She glares at Izzie, even as she holds her close, as if that would help, until a longer, slower stroke has her eyelids fluttering and her head falls back against the pillows.

“ _Fuck_ , Iz, enough with the teasing – “ she hisses through grit teeth. The curse hits like a physical touch – Izzie’s certainly heard her curse before, no one in the hospital would have ever made it through this job without ranting and swearing after a bad day, a bad week – but hearing it here with her intimate and close, feeling her wet under her fingers, Izzie feels it right between her legs.

“Impatient?” Izzie tries to cover up how affected she is by being smug about it.

“ _Yes_ ,” Lexie says, breathless and haughty, grinding against Izzie’s hand to try and drive the point home, meeting her smug look with another glare that really loses its weight with her whine. “Driving me _crazy_.”

“There’s a compliment.”

Lexie huffs a soundless laugh at that, which Izzie kisses away, and she rewards said compliment with faster circles over where she’s the wettest. Izzie’s lips catches the sharp gasp and following moans as she quickens her pace, alternating between strokes and circles at her entrance against the fabric. She doesn’t slip in, because that’s what Lexie wants the most right now and Izzie’s a little too drunk on seeing her like this, and if making her crazy is how she can get back at Lexie for sleeping with her husband then she’ll tease her all night.

With strings of ‘ _hey_ ’ and ‘ _c’mon_ ’ and more shifting under Izzie’s hand, she tries to encourage her to actually touch her, but she never switches to ‘ _please’_ and Izzie remembers how stubborn a Grey could be. Her motions switch between long circles over her clit to outright thrusting into her, fingers straining and pushing back against wet fabric. Her free hand starts twisting in the sheets; Izzie laces their fingers and stretches out above her, putting more weight on her pinned hand as she leans forward, and their lips meet again.

Touching her lips, Izzie can feel before she hears her mutters and moans turn from indigent and sloppy to quick streams of ‘ _yes_ ’ and ‘ _Izzie_ ’. Her hand curls and uncurls, her thrusting meeting Izzie’s pace for pace and – _oh_ , well, so much for teasing. The way her name sounds falling from Lexie’s mouth makes Izzie dizzy, sends a shiver trickling down her back like a flush. She speeds up her pace, leans back just enough to watch Lexie’s eyes moving behind her lids, the pink spreading on her cheeks and traveling down her neck, the bit of blonde strands stuck to her forehead.

Izzie hears her name stutter out in clumsy waves at the same time Lexie’s breathing picks up, so she finally slips her hand under the fabric (dragging her hand _just_ slow enough to hear Lexie to hiss out “ _Izzie Stevens I swear to god_ -” though she would claim later it “totally wasn’t on purpose”) and enters her with two fingers, and her words tumble into moans. Izzie has to bite back a sound of her own at the way she feels around her fingers, but she’s pretty sure Lexie hears it anyway.

Her thumb works at Lexie’s clit as she thrusts in and out and it only takes a few swipes before her panting gets harder, her gasps coming out sharp and high. She wraps her legs around Izzie’s waist and grabs her arm as if she expects Izzie to pull back again and isn’t have any of it – the motion pulls Izzie closer and she knows Lexie hears her groan this time. Izzie lets go of the hand in her grip, shifting her weight, and Lexie leans up and cups Izzie’s check one handed, holding her in place.

A curl of Izzie’s fingers and a final stroke with her thumb, she feels Lexie coming and clenching around her with a moan that pours steadily from her lips onto Izzie’s. Izzie brings her other hand up to tangle in Lexie’s hair behind her head, holding her in place as Izzie drinks her in.

Izzie brings her down with slow strokes until Lexie unlatches her hand from Izzie’s wrist with a shaky laugh, and Izzie pulls out as her head hits the pillows. Izzie rolls onto her back next to Lexie and listens to her try to calm her breathing.

Izzie doesn’t really know if the proper end to this would be for Lexie to leave or stay, so she gropes around until she find the edge of the blanket and pulls it around them, thinking Lexie can leave if she wants to. Lexie answers the silent question by curling up next to Izzie and she stifles back a feeling of relief that she doesn’t understand.

Lexie rests her chin on Izzie’s shoulder and looks up at her through a mess of bangs and heavy-lidded eyes. “Geesh, I kind of wish you were _my_ wife now.”

Izzie is completely caught by surprise and the laugh that bursts from her clearly shows it, and Lexie blinks back her haze and she has the grace to look embarrassed.

“Oh – _shit_ – that was weird. I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

She shouldn’t have, but Izzie wraps an arm around her anyway and keeps them pressed together. “Alex would be into that.”

Lexie hums and raises an eyebrow, like she’s impressed Izzie would say that, but smartly doesn’t comment, instead settling her head back against Izzie’s neck. She’s quiet for enough time that Izzie thinks she’s asleep. She shifts to get comfortable and the ache and wetness between her legs reminds her how one sided that was. Izzie’s hand traces lazy patterns on Lexie’s bare back and the ache grows as Izzie feels Lexie’s body under her fingers, and she considers touching herself just to ease herself to sleep.

She starts to but doesn’t get a stoke or two in before Lexie moves next to her, easily pushing Izzie’s hand away and replacing it with hers. She keeps her fingers over fabric, just as Izzie had with her, and Izzie feels lips smile against her neck as she presses closer to Izzie’s side.

“Hands up,” she says, and Izzie smiles in spite of herself. One of her arms is still trapped under Lexie, so she wraps that one around her shoulders and the other Izzie tucks under the pillow above her head.

She kisses along Izzie’s neck, up to her chin, the shell of her ear, and down again while her hand trails slowly across the top band of Izzie’s underwear and against skin, and Izzie suddenly hates that she teased so much, though she doesn’t dare complain in case it stopped.

Slightly more merciful, Lexie pushes clothing away and touches Izzie, stroking in circles around her clit, and Izzie moves her hand to her mouth, biting against fingers to block a moan. Lexie’s tongue is doing wicked things to Izzie’s neck, and if she leaves a bruise or two Izzie certainly doesn’t care.

Izzie rocks with Lexie’s steady pace, feeling her muscles tightening already, teeth grit against fingers currently doing very little to stop any sounds. Her hips start bucking against Lexie’s hand and Izzie feels herself on the brink, throwing her hand down and grabbing a fist full of the sheets.

She opens her mouth to groan when Lexie abruptly pulls her hand way, leaving Izzie aching and wanting more than before, and the sounds she makes instead are “ _Lex_ -what the _shit_ – “ before Lexie rolls on top of her, arms circled around Izzie’s head, hair falling around her as Lexie hurriedly leans down and kisses her to silence any complaints.

Izzie cups her jaw as they kiss and she allows it for a moment before whispering “Hands _up_ ,” again. For some irrational reason Izzie thinks Lexie will leave if she doesn’t, so she let her hands drop to her sides, bucking against her in a polite gesture to _please_ _hurry it up_ and Lexie laughs with heat and mischief. She kisses down Izzie’s neck and chest to where her shirt touches just below her cleavage and Izzie thinks Lexie’s going to ask her to sit up, tug her shirt off, but instead she pulls the collar down, cup and all - Izzie is surprised she doesn’t hear anything rip - and swirls her tongue against her. Izzie bites her fingers again but Lexie hears her all the same, and when Izzie’s hand threads through her hair, Lexie lets it stay there.

Izzie ends up distracted by another masochistic thought of Lexie’s tongue doing other dirty things in another bedroom to another person, thoughts that quickly drain away when she realizes Lexie’s kissing down her stomach, hands yanking away underwear, and when she covers Izzie with her mouth, most coherent thoughts fly out the window.

Already embarrassingly at the edge, she’s undone by not much more than a few licks along the whole of her, tip of Lexie’s tongue working against her clit. Izzie presses her wrist across her mouth to catch the sounds she makes, but when Lexie stays there, working her tongue into Izzie slowly but urgently, she drops her hand and lets her moans hit the ceiling when she comes a second time.

Lexie leaves a kiss along Izzie’s thigh before lying next to her again, and Izzie can feel the self-satisfaction coming off of her as she readjusts the blanket over them.

“Okay, I forgive you,” Lexie says and Izzie feels that smile on her skin again.

It takes a moment to remember what she means and Izzie smacks her on the arm when realization hits. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be doing this for everyone.”

“Too bad. It’s a good way to say sorry.”

Izzie doesn’t for the life of her know why she did it with _Lexie_ other than being drunk, hurt and lonely enough to think it would be something they both needed, and they let the question hang in the air between them.

Instead she threads her fingers through blonde hair and watches the strands as they fall back against Lexie's neck and pillow and finally asks her, "What's with the blonde?"

A shrug. "Spur of the moment. I don't even know."

"You make a hotter blonde than me. Maybe I should go brunette."

" _Please_ ," Lexie scoffs, seemingly brushing off the remark. But she places a kiss to Izzie’s cheek, cupping her jaw lightly in her hand, and settles against her side, doing a bad job at hiding a pleased smile. It doesn’t surprise Izzie at all that Lexie is a cuddler, and it’s been way too long since she fell asleep with someone holding her, so she lets her.

//

Izzie wakes up to see Lexie is still in the room, although caught in the process of getting dressed, and Izzie’s eyes travel along her naked back. Izzie isn’t leaving for a good few hours, and they both know getting a taxi isn’t a problem, so Izzie doesn’t join her in getting up just yet.

“Hey,” Lexie says, looking over her shoulder at Izzie with a soft smile. “I was debating a shower, but it felt rude.”

The thought to offer a shared shower crosses Izzie’s mind, before she realizes that would be much too intimate - a drunken mistake at night is one thing, but intimacy in the morning light was another thing entirely and Izzie isn’t sure she wants to really know what this _thing_ was, so she lets it be. “You should,” she says instead. “They’ll smell the girl-on-girl coming off you from a mile away.”

She hums with a grin and bends to pick up her bra and tugs it back on, rising to collect the rest of her clothes and Izzie watches her without embarrassment since Lexie doesn’t seem ashamed either, as if they were just close roommates and not two – friends? – who got drunk and slept together. “I’d much rather them think about that than about me being a homewrecker.”

“Sorry,” Izzie tells her automatically, even though she doesn’t have anything to be sorry for technically.

Lexie buttons up her jeans, shirt thrown over her shoulder and stares at Izzie. She chooses not to say whatever she was about to say, which Izzie agrees was for the best.

Pulling her shirt over her head, she asks, “Where will you go?”

“I’m looking at other hospitals, if that’s what you’re asking.” Izzie really has half a heart in it, but she also can’t bear the thought of _not_ trying. She isn’t even limiting herself to hospitals and surgery, just anywhere with patients. A clinic maybe, which would be fitting she thinks. Izzie doesn’t have a clue where she’ll end up, so admitting she's making an attempt is the next best thing she can offer.

“Good.” Lexie sends a smile her way and Izzie feels foolishly happy to see it, some strange mixture of post-sex affection and that desperate wish to be missed.

When she’s dressed, Lexie rounds the bed and sits next to Izzie, lingering for a moment. There’s a strange feeling that knowing Lexie’s about to leave will make Izzie feel desperate for her to stay, for her to come back to bed and stray off that sense of dread, but in the end when she brushes along Izzie’s bangs and they both know they can’t delay much longer, Izzie just feels a little sad. She is, at the very least, glad she’s not leaving Seattle feeling angry at anyone.

“Take care of herself,” Lexie not-quite-begs. She says it like a doctor would and Izzie knows it’s a comment on her health as much as it is a pleasantry.

“Of course,” she placates, and when Lexie pulls away Izzie suddenly grabs her wrist to stop her. “Take care of him. Of _them_ ,” she asks her, doing a much poorer job of not sounding like she’s begging. “And tell Mer – that – “

She can’t finish that one properly, because it’s more likely no one will know they saw each other, so Izzie sloppily finishes with, “just…take care of them, okay?”

Lexie looks at her for a moment before leaning forward and kissing her for a good deal longer than expected. She pulls away just enough and Izzie can feel she’s nodding, then presses closer again. Izzie is twisted awkwardly in the sheets but kisses her back as best she can, a little embarrassed at whatever emotion she’s feeling.

“See you around, Iz,” Izzie feels her say against her lips, before Lexie stands and heads towards the door. She looks back when she gets there and they both, Izzie hopes, share an understanding that this was probably the last time they would see each other, and then she’s gone.

Izzie rolls back over, pulling the cover up to her shoulders, and wonders if Lexie will head home or go straight to work. She wonders if Lexie and Alex will get together or if she’ll get back with Mark. She wonders how Meredith and Derek are handling his new position as Chief. She wonders if Cristina is learning anything and everything that she was desperate to learn. She wonders what Alex is doing right this moment.

Mostly, Izzie wonders if there are any application responses waiting in her inbox.

///

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be a bit more of an "angry-sex" thing with much much more focus on the ex-wife x mistress dynamic, but 'i get emotionally attached' izzie x 'heart lives in my vagina' lexie just seemed to mix into something a little more confusingly genuine.
> 
> did i write this specifically because i wanted izzie to see lexie blonde? i sure did
> 
> up next: am i ever going to write my favorite rarepair getting together without alcohol? we just don't know


End file.
